dismal are the mirrors of a wolf
by karaleyn
Summary: Remus and Sirius in an interpretation of the OotP fireplace scene. A dance of friendship and betrayal, and the fear of getting close. Remus-centric, Remus/Sirius friendship.


Dismal are the mirrors of a wolf

_by Ais_

_7/18/06 _

Note: I wrote this fic years ago and decided to publish it here just so I wouldn't keep losing it. I usually go by Ais and only went by karaleyn here at FFN. Below are my original notes:

I've been rereading the Harry Potter books 3-6 to get reacquainted with Remus and Sirius. I was struck by the interaction we saw in page 669-672 of OotP because Remus and Sirius truly act like friends there, one of the few times we see them interacting with each other without a lot of others distracting them. I wanted to look at that from their side, and then... I wrote this.

The dialogue and actions of the characters from when Harry arrives to when Harry leaves is all taken straight from OotP in an attempt to keep this parallel to the book. I intend no copyright infringement; I merely wanted it to be accurate to the canon portion of the story. The rest of this I made up, using information I remember from the stories and the few interviews I've read. Harry Potter and its universe belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and any number of other companies that I am in no way affiliated with or related to. I make no money from this piece of fanwork, and am just writing it for fun.

Initially, this story was just going to be short, and then it kept going, and then it was semi.. not really sappy, but getting there, and then it had angst, and now I don't know _what _it is. It's Sirius/Remus friendship and not really anything else... I will note this didn't end the way I expected it to when I started out. Also, I don't think they'd actually have any of these conversations, but oh well. It's what came out when I wrote.

'Dismal are the mirrors of a wolf' is a line from Nightwish's song _This Moment Is Eternity._ Although, truthfully, I think this story has more of a Neko Case tone, probably from _Hold On, Hold On._

No pairings. Sirius/Remus friendship. Had I written more, it probably would have become some form of Sirius/Remus relationship or attraction. It's possible hints of that are noticeable within this fic. I edited this years ago; there may still be mistakes. By the way, I'll be honest: It's doubtful I will continue and write anything else in the HP fandom. Mostly because I'm very involved in an original series now (In the Company of Shadows).

* * *

The kitchen was lit primarily by the crackling fire, and though Remus Lupin knew he should light a few more candles, he did not stand to do so. He leaned against the table, feet tucked safely under the chair, his fingers trailing absently over the parchment. His head hurt, just a little, but it was easier to concentrate on the parchment now that Sirius had left.

It was too difficult with Sirius around, whose very presence could still fill a room, even after all those torturous years in Azkaban. While it used to be that Sirius' presence brought arrogance, charm, and mystery, now it was as likely to suffuse the room with depression or anger, and Remus found it stifling. He did not entirely know yet how to deal with this new Sirius Black, wrongfully convicted murderer of innocents and several friends, whose black hair hung in curtains that hid his true expression more than it showed it.

Once, they had been good friends. By now, they remained so only in some fashion. They had a routine, a silent dance around each other as they reached for breakfast or prepared for bed. Sometimes, they even reminisced, but not often. For Sirius, it was a reminder of what was stolen from him by Peter. For Remus, it was a reminder of all that had changed in himself since.

Remus let out a small noise of irritation. Sirius had left and even now his mind still strayed. It was important he read this letter, but he just did not want to concentrate on it. He was pleased to help the Order of the Phoenix a second time, but, honestly, Mundungus Fletcher really could stand to write more coherently and about more interesting topics than the illegal transportation of dragon eggs into the country.

Oh, he did not say anything about the dragon eggs in so many words, but Remus knew how to read between the lines, and Mundungus was just the sort of person to vaguely refer to something illegal he was in the midst of even in an official report. Perhaps he did not expect anyone to understand the reference, or perhaps, as Remus used to suspect of James and Sirius in their Hogwarts days, he was bringing it up to see how far he could push Remus before he said something. Being a generally quiet, withdrawn person, he was now accustomed to those who needed to see what it took to make him snap. Not permanently, mind, just a little – a raised voice here, angry eyes there, tension in the shoulders and a stiff expression.

_It must be a sport_, Remus decided, because he had once mentioned Mundungus' vague allusions to crime to Tonks, and she said she had never heard of him doing that for anyone else; just the letters that Mundungus knew Remus would be reading.

Honestly, as if Remus did not have enough to deal with already, now he had to add _this _mischief to—

"Sirius?"

Remus was so startled that he jumped, and almost ripped the parchment in two. He whirled toward the voice, completely shocked to see Harry's head sticking out of the fireplace. "Harry!" he said, his mind going into overdrive on everything that must have gone wrong for him to have appeared here. "What are you – what's happened, is everything all right?"

"Yeah," Harry said, but he looked a little uncomfortable and hesitant. "I just wondered – I mean, I just fancied a – a chat with Sirius."

Remus stared at him, but stood anyway. What in the world...? "I'll call him," he said, and found himself elaborating as if to placate Harry in the meantime. "He went upstairs to look for Kreacher, he seems to be hiding in the attic again..."

He left quickly, still feeling urgent in his step despite Harry's relative nonchalance. He could not think of anything that would require a 'chat' with Sirius at such a time of day, with no warning whatsoever.

He wanted to yell for Sirius but could not, as that would wake the painting of Sirius' mother, so instead he hurried as quietly as he could up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was quite large, and Remus, who was slowly getting on in years and at any given point was not the healthiest of people, found himself mildly out of breath by the time he reached the attic.

"Sirius," he hissed as he peered inside, unable to locate him immediately in the gloom. The house was like a museum of the dark – from Dark Arts to simply dark auras. Some rooms, even with candles and wands lit and cleaning supplies out, felt as though they existed merely to suck the happiness from its inhabitants, like the echo of a Dementor caught within four walls. The attic was not too bad, but even so there were days here and there – and that was another thing, how strange that the room did not act the same every time – that Remus felt that any light shone in was devoured by the shadows, never to be seen again.

"Sirius," he said a little louder, and was rewarded with a muffled thump and curse.

"No, I haven't found him yet, that dirty little toerag," Sirius said irritably, emerging from the shadows to be cast in pale relief by the light from the rest of the house. He looked a specter at that moment; a ghost dead yet undead, haunting the home with an angry, mournful air.

"It's not – it's Harry, Sirius, you must come quick."

It was not the most intelligent thing to say, as Sirius immediately tensed like a dog sensing a cat in its territory, and swept down upon Remus like a vengeful ghost. "What!" he said immediately, incensed and concerned and already rushing past Remus, "It's Snape, isn't it? I _knew _that – Or, no, it couldn't be something _worse – _?"

"No, it's not – Well, truly, I've no idea," Remus said, following in Sirius' footsteps like a child stumbling to catch up to his overzealous dog. "He's in the fireplace; he needs to talk to you."

Sirius paused on the stairs and looked over his shoulder with the same sort of bewildered expression he knew he had given Harry at the initial request. They said nothing more, however, as they hurried back down the kitchen, taking several steps at a time. It was clear that Sirius' mind had been working on overdrive in that silence, for as they entered the room and he dropped to the ground in front of the fireplace, sweeping his long hair out of his eyes, his voice was urgent and concerned. "What is it? Are you all right? Do you need help?"

Remus knelt beside Sirius, leaning forward to see Harry better, who looked uncomfortable but somehow relieved. They had only been gone a scant few minutes, not long given how much space they had to travel, but even so, Harry looked strained. Remus watched in concern as Harry shook his head just the slightest.

"No, it's nothing like that... I just wanted to talk... about my dad..."

That had certainly not been what either of them had been expecting from such a sudden appearance and it caused them to look at each other in surprise, as if to ask each other, '_Did_ you_ know he would ask about James?'_

But Harry did not waste time. "I was in my Occlumency lessons and Snape – he has Dumbledore's Pensieve right now – he always puts some thoughts into it before we start. We were interrupted and – well, I went to look –" Remus could not help noticing Sirius' expression shift minutely to smug vindication that Harry had intruded on Snape's privacy – "and I saw you. All of you. My dad and you and, and everyone, in the Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. exams when you were all fifteen."

Remus and Sirius exchanged another look of surprise, though this time Sirius looked away immediately to nod intently at Harry, while Remus' gaze lingered on Sirius a half a second longer. The O.W.L. exams... Briefly, with a bittersweet pang, Remus wished he could have seen this all too. It would have been nice to see what they had all been, once, before betrayal and revenge had sucked the youth and souls out of each of the survivors. Maybe it was best, in some dark, terrifying way, that James had not lived after all, to see what became of his precious Marauders.

Harry's voice sped up now that he was into the story, and he stared intently, almost pleadingly, at Sirius as he told it. "You all went outside – sat down by the tree and Snape was at the bushes – and Snape wasn't even doing anything but then – my dad, he started jinxing him, and Sirius, you and he ganged up on him. My mum came over – she was so angry, but then Snape," and there was a sneer to his words that became clear when he continued, "just called her a Mudblood for all her help so she left. But my dad didn't even let Snape recover, he just jinxed him upside down in front of everyone and threatened to take off his underpants and everyone was laughing and it got interrupted but I can't imagine anyone stopped him." He finished with a rush, looking at the two of them anxiously.

They were silent a moment while they remembered the day, the context, that time. Remus felt uncomfortable that, of all the excerpts for Harry to see of his father's life, it was one with Snape, which would never cast James in a good light. And to know that James, who had been so blissfully thrilled when Lily had finally caved to his advances, who had been the proudest father Remus could imagine at Harry's birth, was only seen by his son in movement outside of magic photographs as the person he had been around the person he persecuted the most...

"I wouldn't like you to judge your father on what you saw there, Harry," Remus said carefully, quietly. "He was only fifteen –"

"I'm fifteen!" Harry said heatedly, annoyed.

"Look, Harry," Sirius said, trying to placate him. "James and Snape hated each other from the moment they set eyes on each other, it was just one of those things; you can understand that, can't you? I think James was everything Snape wanted to be – he was popular, he was good at Quidditch, good at pretty much everything. And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts and James – whatever else he may have appeared to you, Harry – always hated the Dark Arts."

"Yeah," Harry said doggedly, "but he just attacked Snape for no good reason, just because – well, just because you said you were bored." He looked at Sirius, his tone slightly apologetic.

"I'm not proud of it," Sirius said quickly, as if trying to get his thoughts in before Harry could condemn Sirius or James further.

Remus looked at Sirius sidelong, trying to figure out how to get Harry to understand the context. "Look, Harry, what you've got to understand is that your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did – everyone thought they were the height of cool – if they sometimes got a bit carried away –"

"If we were sometimes arrogant little berks, you mean," Sirius said mildly.

Remus could not help smiling, but Harry spoke before he could continue.

"He kept messing up his hair," he said, pained.

Sirius and Remus laughed. Memories of their Hogwarts days immersed them that moment the way the shadows permeated the air and were drawn in like breath in other areas of the house. What other memories were there, just out of reach, like the Snitch darting between the stretched fingers of a Seeker? How many times had the Marauders sat in the Gryffindor Common Room, crouched around a similar flickering fireplace like this, considering and discarding increasingly daring pranks? Remus found himself trying to remember every little quirk that James Potter had ever displayed.

"I'd forgotten he used to do that," Sirius said affectionately, eyes a little distant in remembrance.

"Was he playing with the Snitch?" Remus asked eagerly when the memory surfaced, like stories of the Squid beneath the lake rising to the surface to snatch unsuspecting victims. He unconsciously leaned forward as he thought of that, one of James' favorite pastimes.

"Yeah," Harry said, giving them a strange look. He clearly did not see what was so great about the way his father had been acting, and why Remus and Sirius were so happy in reminiscence. "Well... I thought he was a bit of an idiot." Harry sounded a little disappointed.

"Of course he was a bit of an idiot!" Sirius said, coming back into the conversation. "We were all idiots!" He paused, looking at Remus as he amended, "Well – not Moony so much..."

Remus shook his head, unable or perhaps unwilling to take even that much of a compliment. Of all the things that had happened since those happier days, of all that he had learned of the world, of himself, of friendship and betrayal and the scars that would never fade, he knew that he would never have called himself anything but a collaborator and, truthfully, just as much an idiot as his friends had been. "Did I ever tell you to lay off Snape? Did I ever have the guts to tell you I thought you were out of order?"

"Yeah, well," Sirius said stubbornly. "You made us feel ashamed of ourselves sometimes... That was something..."

"And," Harry said insistently, not letting them get too off track before he could say everything on his mind, "he kept looking over at the girls by the lake, hoping they were watching him!" He sounded as though he could not believe anyone with his blood had ever acted like that, let alone the father he had unconsciously been using as a role model despite never having met him.

Sirius shrugged. "Oh, well, he always made a fool of himself whenever Lily was around. He couldn't stop himself showing off whenever he got near her."

"How come she married him?" Harry said miserably, and Remus felt a pang as the son of two of his closest friends started to doubt the love they'd had for each other. "She hated him!"

"Nah, she didn't," Sirius said easily.

"She started going out with him in seventh year," Remus said, so Harry would understand that there had been time between the memory and their love.

"Once James had deflated his head a bit," Sirius said.

"And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it," Remus said in agreement.

"Even Snape?" Harry asked, half doubtful, half hopeful.

"Well," Remus said slowly, knowing Snape would always be a touchy subject. "Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James, so you couldn't really expect James to take that lying down, could you?"

"And my mum was okay with that?" Harry looked as though he was grasping for anything that could make him proud of his parents again and Remus felt another twist to his heart as he studied Harry's expression.

It had been so long since the beginning of it all, since the time when Lily could not seem to bear to be near James, and there had been so much time between their meeting and their love, that it was... not 'easy' but also not particularly difficult to forget the time in between. Perhaps it was simply that Remus wanted to remember James and Lily as they had been at the height of their lives; happy, so incredibly in love, and, later, so proud of the son they had brought into the world.

For Remus, when he thought of James and Lily, he was always quite aware of the fact that there had been darker times, and there had been worse times later after they'd been murdered, after everything had been twisted and so horribly wrong. Yet after everything that had happened, he wanted the chance to focus on the point of happiness in lives cut entirely too short, and not on the struggles toward that point or the darkness afterward. Truly, the way James wooed Lily was a large part of their relationship and defined the two of them so well, and yet it was not the time in which their smiles were brightest or laughter most infectious. He wanted a way to impress upon that to Harry, to tell him that his parents had had their troubles, certainly, and no one could ever say it had been love at first sight on Lily's behalf, but that they had grown together over the years, and that for all of James' faults, he had been an outstanding human being, and for all of Lily's protests, she had loved him despite it all.

Sirius spoke before Remus could find the words. "She didn't know too much about it, to tell you the truth. I mean, James didn't take Snape on dates with her and jinx him in front of her, did he?" Sirius watched Harry closely, so that when he did not look convinced, Sirius frowned. "Look, your father was the best friend I ever had, and he was a good person. A lot of people are idiots at the age of fifteen. He grew out of it."

"Yeah, okay," Harry said with heaviness in his voice and expression. "I just never thought I'd feel sorry for Snape."

"Now you mention it," Remus said, pulling his eyebrows down as a thought shook him out of his reverie, "how did Snape react when he found you'd seen all this?"

Harry looked indifferent. "He told me he'd never teach me Occlumency again, like that's a big disappoint—"

He was cut off by Sirius' sudden shout, "He _what?" _

Harry jumped, inhaling a mouthful of ashes and coughing briefly. Remus leaned forward, speaking quickly to get in before Sirius went on a rant as alarm made his mind snap to the current conversation with a frightening intensity. "Are you serious, Harry? He's stopped giving you lessons?"

"Yeah," Harry said, and looked surprised at their reactions. "But it's okay, I don't care, it's a bit of a relief to tell you the –"

"I'm coming up there to have a word with Snape!" Sirius said forcefully, starting to stand before Remus yanked him back down.

"If anyone's going to tell Snape it will be me!" Remus said firmly to Sirius, turning back to Harry immediately while his heart raced. "But Harry, first of all, you're to go back to Snape and tell him that on no account is he to stop giving you lessons – when Dumbledore hears – "

"I can't tell him that, he'd kill me!" Harry said furiously. "You didn't see him when we got out of the Pensieve — "

"Harry," Remus said sternly, trying to impress upon him the vast importance of this matter. "There is nothing so important as you learning Occlumency! Do you understand me? Nothing!"

"Okay, okay," Harry said irritably, not meeting either of their gazes for a moment. "I"ll... I'll try and say something to him... But it won't be..." He fell silent suddenly, and neither Remus nor Sirius spoke as they continued to stare at him urgently. "Is that Kreacher coming downstairs?" Harry looked distracted.

"No," Sirius said, glancing over his shoulder just to be sure. "It must be somebody your end."

Harry's eyes widened and he said hastily, "I'd better go!" Before they could say anything futher, he disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared.

Remus and Sirius were left kneeling on the ground, staring at a now-blank fire as they both reeled from the conversation. After a few moments, Remus leaned back on his heels and sat there a moment, mind working too furiously to let him focus on any one subject.

"I'd better – I'd best write – no, that would be intercepted, wouldn't it, and we can't let Umbridge know Snape – " Remus hardly even knew he was speaking aloud; Harry's news had him so worried that he could hardly think to finish a sentence.

Sirius remained on all fours in front of the fireplace, silent while Remus stood and paced over to the table to stare distractedly at Mundungus' report. His thoughts were so crowded that by the time Sirius spoke, he jumped for the second time that night.

"I'd forgotten – " Sirius' voice was quiet, tinged with bittersweet hoarseness as he finally leaned back on his heels, hands resting on his knees and not looking away from the fire. "I'd forgotten what it was like, then. A little. What..."

He trailed off, sounding lost, and though Remus could not see his expression from this angle, he knew he would look it too. He paused in the middle of reaching for blank parchment and his quill, and stared helplessly at Sirius. He did not know what to say, so he remained silent, but Sirius seemed to know without looking that he now held his friend's attention.

"We were everything at that time, weren't we? It was as if... the school was ours, and we..." Sirius cut himself off, sounding frustrated, sounding scared. "Someone with so much personality, and he was so good against the Dark Arts, wasn't he? Top marks in Defense and – of all of us, he was the one who – "

Remus hesitated, sighed, and moved to make some tea so he could give his body a distraction, something to do so he would not feel uncomfortable that he was not moving nearer to Sirius to comfort him somehow. His hands shook slightly as he pulled out the teacups and filled the kettle with water but did not heat it, and he stared at his fingers unseeingly. Hands full of scars and claw-like nails, the sort that transformed completely once a month to rip and tear and devour the landside, covered in blood and dirt and pain -- but always returning, mended on the outside but never the same on the inside, to human hands that could hold a delicate piece of china filled with liquid to soothe the soul.

"Do you know," Remus said quietly, not entirely realizing he was speaking his thoughts aloud, "that I've sometimes – since I knew what happened, but truthfully, maybe all those years I thought it without knowing –- that I've wished you were right?" He vaguely noticed Sirius stiffening in the corner of his eyes, but he did not look over. "About being the spy. I've wished – that I was the betrayer, that it was I who...."

Sirius turned very slightly, looking at Remus with an unfathomable expression in his grey eyes. He held himself very still, backlit by the crackling fire, a statue awaiting its cue to shake itself free of paralysis and stand, creaking, to live.

Now that the words were out, Remus found himself speaking more, words flowing that he had not let himself fully consider for years, doubts that were forming in his mind but he did not know of until now, when they spilled from his mouth. "If you were right, about me, about everything, think of how it would be now. James – James and Lily would be alive – Peter would have protected them, would have – and if I told Voldemort, 'Go for Sirius,' he would have– I never would have suspected Peter, my God, how would I have? It was a good plan. It should have worked." He stared at his hands, shaking more now so that if there had been liquid inside the teacup, it would have spilled and burned his fingers.

"And – and if I had betrayed everyone, well... It would have hurt you all – I was your friend, how could it not? – but there are those who would say... it was expected. And I – out with the werewolves," he shuddered suddenly, thinking of what he could have become, "wild and uncontrolled, but it would have been only a matter of time until something – fire, silver, another werewolf, would it matter? I would have died easier than Peter, rats are like that, aren't they, they never die. And – even if I had given information, you and James, you were clever enough, strong enough – you would have known to protect yourselves, would have –"

He had to set the cup down entirely and could not look up, could not stop speaking until he had rid himself of every dark thought that had slowly been festering since he'd met Sirius in the Shrieking Shack after all those years, since he'd first realized what exactly had transpired when everything had gone to hell.

"Just think... Right now, you would not have spent all those years in Azkaban – Harry would not be an orphan – Peter would not –" He couldn't finish that thought above the others, for it held too much anger and pain for him to deal with properly for the moment, and he finally found himself looking over at Sirius pleadingly. His hands were shaking so much that now he dropped them to the counter and gripped the edge, as if to keep himself steady. He could not read Sirius' expression, but he was watching him nonetheless, and Remus would not have been able to stop himself from speaking even if James came back from the dead and walked into the kitchen right then, playing with his nicked Snitch, rumpling his untidy black hair with a lazy grin.

"Lily and James would be alive. Peter, he would not have been tempted, he would not have lost everything – Sirius, you would not be so wasted and hurt, and Harry would not – would not have to doubt everything he'd ever heard—" Remus growled lightly, frustrated and furious and terrified and hating himself. "He'd have memories of his father and mother, _real _memories, not ones he stole from Snape and that stupid Pensieve – it would all be fine, if only..."

He looked down again, unable to keep Sirius' gaze as he said quietly, "If only I'd been what you expected me to be. If only... I'd been the one to hate." He was silent half a breath, and continued, "I'd rather... I'd rather be tortured right now, caught in something I can't escape, I'd rather be dead from the wolf inside me than... than have life as it is. I'd rather James and Lily were alive than I was. I'd rather... have gone to Azkaban than you."

Sirius was silent for a few heartbeats, then said bracingly, "Remus..."

"It's not that I feel sorry for myself," Remus said quickly, starting to feel ashamed for his outburst and looking everywhere but at Sirius. "It's just... I've done nothing with my life, Sirius. You were caught in Azkaban for trying to protect your best friend, for... for going after his murderer, even though you used to be friends as well. And what... did I do, but believe the worst in you, as you believed in me? What did I do, but wander... And I can't even get a job," he let out a brief, bitter laugh, "can't do anything, really, because of what I am. And it'd be fine, if it weren't at the expense of others' happiness. Even looking at this logically, wouldn't it have been far better, since I've had no life anyway, to have given it up for others? Wouldn't it have been far better if _I _were the betrayer, living whatever disgusting life I'd lead, loathed and hunted by my former best friends, if only it meant that all of them were still alive, still happy, still... _themselves?" _

Silence, again, save the crackling of the fire, and Remus felt ashamed and disgusted with himself, and as shaky as he had been when James, Sirius and Peter had first revealed that they knew what he was. He felt that same sense of imminent withdrawal and persecution, that everything he had fought for was going to be taken away due to his own stupidity and ailment, and it was all his fault, really, for having been bitten in the first place, for wanting things above his status, and it wasn't that he believed as a werewolf he was subhuman, but it was.

He believed it, even if he tried not to, but only in these moments – when he was afraid and uncertain and the world was tilting around him and he was shaking from the core of his soul outward-- yet he still tried to keep his expression calm, his body as still as possible, his voice as mild as it could be... Because he couldn't let others be drawn in, couldn't risk trusting anyone, couldn't let them get too close for fear of what he could do to them or what they could do to him. He was quiet, mild-mannered, sometimes full of mischief – but there was something inside him that was wild and animalistic, that did not listen to reason or logical arguments, that howled and screamed and ripped apart anything that angered it, that did not know how to control its emotions and instead lived and breathed them.

There was something inside that could kill easily, that didn't mind and even reveled in it, and the blood that would stain his hands, his paws, his mockery of limbs – that blood would be a birthright, a source of pride, something to display like war paint or a trophy or delighted laughter at a particularly good joke –

Remus shuddered, staring intently at his hands that were human right now, and stepped back suddenly from the counter. "I should, ah, write – to someone... about Harry..."

He could not look up, could not stand to see what he knew would be a look of agreement on Sirius' face. Sirius had said nothing, and so it meant he knew Remus' words for the truth, that it would have all been better if Remus had only had the decency to be what Sirius had expected of him, what his friends had believed him to be even after all those years of knowing him.... And maybe it wasn't so far-fetched, really. Maybe they'd just known too clearly how dark it could be inside Remus, despite the years of walls and control mechanisms he had created, despite the apathy he had let take over so much of his outlook so he could continue being human in a world aimed toward persecuting and destroying the dignity of half-breeds...

"Remus," Sirius said as Remus headed distractedly for the door, not listening. "_Moony..." _

Remus stopped at that, could not help himself with the pleading in Sirius' voice, the usage of a name that had once meant brotherly bonds and friendship beyond his greatest dreams. He held himself tense and still, shoulders hunched slightly as if to protect himself, gaze fixed unerringly on the floor in front of him. He said nothing, hoping to get Sirius' disgust over with quickly, trying to decide how difficult and awkward it would be to continue living in Grimmauld Place, or if he should look for other lodgings. Of course, without a job right now as he helped the Order, it would be quite difficult, but he could try anyway...

Sirius stood and walked over, a man gaunt and pained from what the world and betrayal had done to him. He stopped just in front of Remus, between him and the door so Remus could not escape without going through him first, and stood there staring for a moment. Remus refused to look up so Sirius sighed, shifted a bit to look around, and put his hands in his pockets. Remus very briefly glanced up and saw that he was looking at the ceiling with a pained expression.

"It's not your fault, Remus," Sirius said softly, and for all his uncomfortable, casual pose, his voice was intent and sincere. Remus shook his head minutely, but Sirius continued, a little louder. "No, listen, it's _not. _I shouldn't have thought that of you. I shouldn't..."

"And why shouldn't you have?" Remus said as he stared at the floor, so quietly that Sirius had to fall silent to hear him. "I was gone a lot – looking for jobs, helping the Order in ways you didn't know of – I was secretive and distracted and – and so many of the werewolves – "

"You're _not _a bloody werewolf, Remus!" Sirius said suddenly, angrily, and Remus could not help looking up in surprise and anger himself.

"Oh, really?" he said coldly. "I suppose the transformation once a month is just a fluke, then?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Sirius said in disgust, but Remus shook his head, his eyes narrowed.

"I don't, actually. I _am _a werewolf, Sirius. I've been one practically my entire life. Remember becoming an illegal Animagus because of that?" His voice was relatively mild, but there was a taut sense of pain and hurt in the coolness – his own and an attempt to hurt Sirius as well.

"I mean you're not like the others –"

"So I'm a genetic freak of the litter –" Remus' voice was heated.

"Would you just _listen?" _Sirius said angrily, pulling his hands out of his pockets to grasp Remus firmly by the shoulders and shake him a little. "Just stop talking and _listen _for once, Remus!" When Remus opened his mouth to say something, Sirius glared and slapped one hand firmly over Remus' mouth, muffling any words that he may have hoped to utter. Remus fell silent, watching Sirius warily, standing tense and still and mildly suspicious.

"You don't get to talk until I'm done, Moony, or I'll... I'll tie you to the chair and make Kreacher babysit you until you settle down." He was glaring at Remus, who did not want to test the resolve of a man with such an expression. Remus nodded very slightly, and allowed himself to be led to a chair and firmly pushed down.

"Now, sit down, shut up, and let me talk, okay? I listened to you and said nothing, so it's time you listen to me, right?"

Remus nodded, staying silent even after Sirius removed his hand from his mouth, and even though it was one of the hardest things he had done in his life, he forced his gaze to remain on Sirius as he paced the kitchen, occasionally running his hands through his long black hair.

"Right. Now. It's not your fault, got it? It's _not. _I knew you for a decade and still suspected you, because I was stupid. But it doesn't mean I never was your friend... or that I ever resented you for anything... It was just..."

And here he stopped, looking at Remus with grey eyes that spoke of frustration and fear and confusion, and Remus remembered what it had been like back then, with the Dark Mark appearing above houses and the knowledge that anyone, _anyone, _could be a Death Eater and he wouldn't know until it was too late. The terror and confusion and distrust, the death and blood and mayhem – Voldemort had ripped the Wizarding and Muggle worlds asunder, and all anyone could do was try their best to make it through alive.

"I never suspected Peter, either," Sirius said helplessly, staring at Remus as if trying to get him to understand. "I knew someone was betraying us – someone close – and I knew it wasn't me, obviously, and it couldn't be James or Lily," his tone of voice showed how incredulous that very idea was, "so it had to be you or Peter. But Peter... He was too pathetic to do anything on his own, wasn't he? He looked at James like he was a god, and so I thought, well, it _had _to be you."

He fell silent, briefly, his voice bitter and apologetic when he continued. "Because you were a werewolf, yeah, but not because I thought that made you evil – just that I knew Voldemort was recruiting werewolves all over, wasn't he? And maybe he made you some offer you couldn't resist. Maybe... I don't know, maybe he was even blackmailing you. I thought... I thought if we could just protect James and Lily right away, then we could figure out what was happening with you. There'd be time. We could corner you, maybe after the full moon when you've always been too exhausted to do anything but lie there, and when you didn't have the energy to deflect our questions – I reckoned we'd have the chance, if only James and Lily were safe first."

Sirius looked pensively at the fire for a few moments, then shook his head and started pacing again. "When I realized it was Peter, I felt – Merlin, I'm not sure I've ever felt like such a prat in my life. I'd killed James and Lily –" Remus made a noise of dissent but Sirius spared him a hard stare and continued loudly, not letting him interrupt, " – killed James and Lily, giving them over to Voldemort to be murdered. _I _was the one who made it so Harry's an orphan, because it was _my _fucking idea to change the Secret Keeper." He glared at the floor as he walked, his jaw set and movements angry.

"Have you any idea how I felt, facing Peter after all that? I'd believed the worst in you, whose actual worst flaw was letting James and me get away with too much, and trusted Peter, who had always been too weak to be his own bloody person. He knew it, staring at me across the way, knew that I knew, and he just hammed it up. 'Lily and James, Sirius, how could you!'" Sirius' expression twisted into bitter loathing as he mimicked the words that had condemned him to twelve years of hell. "And I couldn't even kill him – didn't even get to commit the murder I had to pay half my life for."

The room fell silent for a few moments, and Remus wished that he had actually finished making the tea so he would have something to distract himself with. His fingers twitched in his lap, and he was just opening his mouth to speak when Sirius glanced over with another silencing glare.

"I'm not done yet," he said sternly, and Remus frowned but forced himself to not look away. Sirius stared at him, contemplatively now, really _stared _as if seeing everything about him for the first time in months. Remus began to feel uncomfortable, but some defiant part of him had him lift his chin just a little and stare back at Sirius as if to say, 'Yes, I know you're looking at me, judging me, _so what?' _

Sirius smiled suddenly, and the expression was so sincere and affectionate that Remus' chin dropped and he blinked, startled, staring at Sirius uncertainly now.

"Do you remember," Sirius said as he walked closer, stopping a few feet from Remus' chair, "when I first reappeared in the Shrieking Shack, what you said to Harry?"

Remus blinked again, rather taken aback. He waited a moment, but Sirius just gestured at him to reply, so Remus said slowly, with a frown, "I said many things. I'm not sure which..."

"You said," Sirius cut him off, taking one step closer, "that you had not been a friend to me but that you were one now."

Remus blinked again, beginning to think that this was his new reaction to anything Sirius would say from now on. "Ah – yes, I do recall saying that – "

"But the one who hadn't been a friend," Sirius said firmly, now kneeling so he could look up into Remus' eyes, his hands resting casually on Remus' knees, "was me."

That comment caused Remus to stare at him uncertainly. "No, I should have known you wouldn't betray James – "

"As I should have of you," Sirius said quietly.

"It made more sense for me," Remus insisted, "because you and James were like brothers –"

"Being brothers, or like brothers, does not mean one can't fail the other. Look at Regulus – that little prat became a Death Eater, didn't he, despite all I tried to do for him?"

"But you were always so insistent you weren't like your family, Sirius. You were so different –"

"I'm still a Black, aren't I? Despite all I say, all I do, that'll always be true. This damn house still recognizes me, doesn't it, and this is the Blackest thing about my family I can think of."

"Yes, but you tried so hard _not _to be a Black that... How I could ever have believed it..." Remus trailed off, staring helplessly at Sirius, who stared back in rather the same fashion. There was a moment of silence that was not uncomfortable, but lingered just the same.

"I couldn't, you know," Remus said quietly. "It was so difficult. I couldn't reconcile the Sirius I remembered – arrogant, prankster Padfoot," – Sirius smirked a little – "with the man sent to Azkaban for the betrayal of his best friend and for the murder of another friend. And innocents. Innocent Muggles who had nothing to do with it..."

"You must have thought me the worst person in the world," Sirius said softly, staring at Remus with intent eyes, neither judging him nor looking hurt at the thought.

Remus smiled slightly, a completely humorless expression that looked more pained than anything. "I didn't know _what _to think. I was just minding my own business, content in the knowledge that you were all doing your best to fight the Death Eaters – and, suddenly, James and Lily were dead, Peter was murdered, and you were sent to Azkaban for instigating all of it." Remus' eyes unfocused a little, his hands twitched. "I got the owl late, a few days after it had happened – a letter and a clipping from the Daily Prophet. Dumbledore wrote it – I kept that ruddy letter for so long, as if rereading it would change the words – and even with the clipping, your picture on front, the headlines and article and all the evidence.... Even with it, I remember thinking, 'My God, this is all a dream..' I went to sleep. Like I'd wake up and it'd be fine."

Sirius was silent a moment. "...A clipping from the Daily Prophet? Bit tactless of Dumbledore," he said, as if trying to find a safe topic.

Remus shook his head, very slightly. "He knew I would want to know what it said... what was said about you, all of you. Knew I wouldn't have the guts to buy one for awhile... maybe wouldn't have the money, or the time. And anyway, I think he wanted to give me the chance to hide from the world for a bit."

Sirius nodded, his hands unconsciously smoothing the fabric over Remus' knees briefly. "And then?"

Remus blinked, looking at Sirius curiously. "And then what?"

"What'd you do after all that?" Sirius was watching him, his expression unreadable. "All those years, what did you do?"

Remus smiled, looking bitter and wry. "I was fired from more jobs than I can count, wandering all over in the hopes of finding proper lodgings. Slept in buildings that stayed open over night, stayed a few nights in parks. Found cheap hotels and apartments that probably should have been condemned, but were comfortable enough and gave me a nice bit of privacy." He shrugged, unconcerned. "I lived."

Sirius stared at him with a pained expression, his fingers tightening on Remus' knees when he asked quietly, "And full moons?"

Remus watched him a moment before looking away at the fire, shrugging again. "I found ways." His voice was a little too casual for Sirius to accept.

"'Ways'?" he asked shrewdly.

Remus was silent a moment, as if contemplating not answering, but when he looked down again, he saw Sirius with his determined expression of old, the one that he used to use when he intended to pester Remus within a breath of insanity, and keep going if he did not yield even then. The expression provoked such a sudden sense of fondness in Remus, who had been feeling so removed and withdrawn from Sirius for so long, had felt a wall between them ever since they had been reunited, that he could not help smiling at Sirius affectionately and answering truthfully. Sirius' eyes widened briefly at the expression, but he said nothing as Remus spoke.

"Well, I knew it was most important to control that, far more important than lodging or food. Having no place to sleep, nothing to eat – these are things that only affect me. But if I were to be loose during full moons, I could kill others, or, worse, destroy someone's life by turning them like me. So I made sure I always had a fund available for... full moon lodgings."

Sirius raised an eyebrow that had somehow managed to remain elegant through all the years in Azkaban, and leveled Remus with a Look. "And what, exactly," he asked suspiciously, although he suspected he already knew the answer, "are 'full moon lodgings'?"

"Just warehouses or garages, small rooms or condemned buildings," Remus said indifferently. "The sort of place I could lock myself up, chained or collared whenever necessary, where no one would bother me for a bit." Seeing Sirius' horrified look, he said quickly, as if it made it better, "But when I had an apartment, it was alright, because I could just keep myself in the bedroom or living room."

"No one heard you howling or screaming?" Sirius said incredulously.

"Well," Remus said a bit uncomfortably, "I didn't exactly live in the sorts of places where people expected... silence. Or went out of their way at such noises. And there aren't silencing spells for no reason, you realize."

Sirius stared at him as if he were mental, and Remus felt a spark of indignation. "I did just fine," he said curtly, straightening his spine to look down on Sirius. "It's not as if I had any alternatives."

Sirius winced as if struck, and Remus realized a moment too late what that sounded like. "Sirius, I didn't mean – "

"No, it's true," Sirius said dismally, leaning back and dropping his hands from Remus' knees. Remus felt, strangely, a sense of loss at that movement and wished Sirius would put his hands there again. It was comforting, in some way, that even after all they had been through, Sirius was still enough of his friend to be comfortable casually touching him, anchoring him in place.

"If I hadn't mucked it all up, you would've still had us to run with you –"

"Do you think I ever expected to have that in the first place?" Remus asked incredulously, staring at Sirius in some surprise.

Sirius blinked, confused and startled. "What?"

"You three," Remus said, his voice full of awe and confusion. "Three friends who were willing to become illegal Animagi for me – do you think I had _ever _expected anythinglike that in the first place? It was wonderful, yes, and I'm quite sure you all had fun – but I knew it would end, didn't I? It was part of the reason I became so withdrawn toward the end of our seventh year, why I was nowhere to be seen afterwards. I was busy, yes, but also just afraid. I knew what I stood to lose, and it was far more than any of you had to lose yourselves."

Sirius frowned. "You prat, you seriously thought we'd abandon you after Hogwarts?" He sounded irritated, indignant, all the things Remus had known he would sound if he had ever voiced his thoughts aloud, and somehow it made him feel better.

"Well, of course I did! James and Lily were so involved in each other, and then there was Harry. James couldn't very well stand to risk running wild with a werewolf once a month with such important matters at home, could he? Peter could have run with me if he liked, but what would a rat do to deter me from something insane? And anyway, I knew he had only done it because you and James had, and with James distracted, he would likely lose interest. As for you, I knew better than to expect you to hang around after James had abandoned some project. It was inevitable once we left the confines of Hogwarts, and I knew it, even if you apparently didn't."

"So you expected to run off to the Shrieking Shack every time, did you?" Sirius said angrily, taking offense at the very idea. "Wanted to let yourself get ripped apart once a month, was it?"

Remus could not help laughing briefly, a bit bitterly and a bit incredulously, at the thought. "Wanted to? Hardly. But I rather think I've always had a better grasp on reality than you –"

"I would've stuck around!" Sirius glared at him, rocking back on his heels and looking insulted that any other thought had crossed Remus' mind. "I wouldn't have abandoned you just because James was busy!"

"And why not?" Remus said intently, irritated now that Sirius was taking such offense to the reality of the matter. "There was no reason for you to stick around, was there? You could turn into Padfoot any time you wanted, don't forget. Just because for me it was once a month doesn't mean you couldn't get your kicks any time –"

"Do you honestly believe that I wanted to turn into Padfoot just to run around as a dog?" Sirius demanded.

"You know the O.W.L. exam Harry talked about? I remember that day, do you? Like so many other days, remember what you said? You were bored, you wished it was the full moon –"

"Because it was _fun!" _Sirius said indignantly. "We were breaking the rules, weren't we? We got to run wild and free – we were all together, all one, out in the forest, able to do whatever we wished –"

"Fun for _you, _maybe, but I don't remember any of that!" Remus leaned back in his chair, as if to get as far from Sirius' idea as possible. "All I ever knew was the agony of the Change – shame and fear and vague vestiges of intense emotions when I Changed again – shaking violently, feeling sick and disgusted in the Shack — For all I ever knew, I'd killed someone — "

"You were fine when you were a wolf," Sirius said heatedly, and it took them both aback for a moment.

Remus had never denied he was a werewolf – not once it was common knowledge, at any rate, or when someone found out and confronted him with it – but he rarely, almost never, actually referred to himself as a _wolf. _ They had called James a stag, Peter a rat, Sirius a dog – these were all true, but they were choices of their own, even if the Animagus power chose the animal for them. But Remus had no control over his own Change and he became the other half of his existence once a month without fail, without his consent at all. If they ever needed to refer to him in that state, they called it 'the Change,' 'Transformed,' even 'Moony,' or James' joking 'furry little problem.' Remus may refer to 'the wolf inside' but it was never that Remus himself was 'a wolf;' he was merely different.

Somehow, calling him a wolf made him seem more animalistic, made the reality of the lycanthropy that much harsher and more evident. As if all that was human of him was being truncated and dismissed, siphoned down to the reality that had been the case since he'd been bitten; that no matter who he became, who he was, the dreams he had or the humanity he exhibited, he was at the heart of things a Dark Creature. He was a thing, a subcreature, to be marked and monitored by the Ministry. He was a wolf, not a man.

After a moment of staring at each other, Sirius said a little more calmly, almost defiant in his repetition, "You were fine when you were a wolf." It was as if he felt that by saying it again he could show that having the wolf inside was alright too; that it didn't make him only a wolf or not a man, it just made him both. His voice became a little softer, more subdued. "You didn't hurt anyone. Once you had us there, once you got used to us, once you knew we were watching your back and protecting you – you seemed almost happy. Your howls didn't sound like screams anymore, they sounded like laughter. When you sat and stared at the moon, your eyes were a wolf's but they were golden and brown like now, and there was you in there... Even as Padfoot, I could tell you were in there, feeling safe."

Remus stared at him, thunderstruck and unable to think of anything to say. The silence stretched between them, and Sirius, sighing, came forward again, placing his hands once more gently on Remus' knees.

"I wouldn't have abandoned you," he said, very softly now, sounding sad and morose and full of so many regrets that they could not possibly all have to do with this conversation. "You were my friend... I turned into Padfoot for _you, _Remus, for _you_-- not for James or Peter or anyone else."

Seeing Remus' doubtful expression, he raised his eyebrows and continued insistently. "Maybe I would've learned the spell at first just for a lark, yeah, to be rebellious and do something crazy with James. But I never would've continued transforming into Padfoot once a month for James. That was for you. Because you were Moony, who was quiet but still a Marauder, because you made me feel like the prat I was sometimes, because you were one of the few people I could trust to be level-headed and kind even when you felt like shit... I wouldn't have bothered with something I hated or didn't believe in, not even for James. You should know me well enough to know the truth of _that_."

Remus continued to look skeptical, but he could not deny the truth of Sirius' words. For all that Sirius and James had practically ruled the school, for all the pranks they had committed together, for everything they had been – James had never been able to convince Sirius to do something he truly hadn't wanted to do and vice versa. They'd been brothers, they'd been best friends, they'd been pranksters – but they hadn't been the type to bend or break when they could just evade.

There was a long silence in which too many thoughts passed through Remus' mind for him to fully follow. Yet he'd known the bitter taste of regret for too long, had felt it sink into his bones and simmer there darkly, quietly, unseen, letting toxins out into his blood until it permeated every centimeter of his being and made him wonder how he had ever believed or trusted in anything at all. He didn't want to get caught in the same sense of quiet regret, of looking back and focusing so intently on the If Only's, of coming to distrust those which had once been truths that had defined and shaped his world. It was for that reason alone he wanted to keep talking, to tell Sirius the things he had not said before, to get some of the weight that had been pressing him inexorably into the earth for years, the gravity that had multiplied and strengthened with every passing moment that went wrong.

Looking down at his hands resting on his thighs, Remus sighed softly. "I'm sorry I didn't realize any of this before. I'm sorry... that I doubted you so much. With everything."

Sirius stiffened and when Remus glanced at him, he saw him looking rather incredulous. "_You're _sorry? You had no way of knowing — "

"Nor did you, really, and we'll just end up in circular arguments if we don't stop soon, but I'm still sorry. I've the right, haven't I?" He looked at Sirius challengingly, who only shook his head wordlessly.

Silence stretched between them and although Remus did not look at Sirius for the moment, he could feel in the air that Sirius was thinking along the same lines; that there were dark thoughts, memories, and fears that plagued him, things he wanted to say or needed to but hadn't had the courage or audience before.

"I knew I was innocent, all through Azkaban," Sirius said quietly, and even with that it seemed too abrupt in the stillness of the room. His voice dropped to the haunted, quiet hush it tended toward when he spoke of those years. Remus automatically made a motion to stop him, knowing how painful this subject had to be, but Sirius plunged on, in an echo of the defiance he used to show with everything when he was younger.

"I knew, but the Dementors –" And here he shuddered, couldn't help it, because they were such a terrifying presence to him that even miles and years away, just saying their name could make him recall so much he wished he could forget. Remus hesitated then laid a hand comfortingly on Sirius' hand on his knee, and Sirius glanced at him gratefully before looking away and continuing. "They can take everything from you. Make it impossible to remember a happy time, as if none of them existed, as if any other life was a lie and this is all there is... Cold, desolation, despair." He was quiet a second, and Remus did not dare interrupt his thoughts, did not even twitch his fingers for fear of making him stop whatever catharsis he needed and deserved.

"But I knew I was innocent," he said a little more firmly, his eyes narrowed, the vestiges of his old determination faint but there in his expression. "They couldn't take that away from me. Even so... I had years," – his voice broke slightly, for it was true, it _was _years, and it should have been just a figure of speech and not cruel reality – "to think about it, about what I had done, _why _I had done it, what the hell I'd been _thinking." _

Sirius stopped again, but this time it seemed because he was hesitating to go on. He looked up at Remus, pleading with him silently to understand; shame and regret was in his eyes when he spoke again. "Do you know what I've realized since I escaped? Watching Harry grow, thinking about what happened, knowing you're around somewhere, knowing Peter's out there?" Remus shook his head, but he needn't have, as Sirius continued anyway. "I realized that... back then, I _wanted _you to be the betrayer. I _wanted _it to be you."

He let the words hang in the air between them, an ugly admission between friends, but no uglier than what Remus thought of himself and his lack of action all those years ago.

"Why?" Remus asked, tired and curious but not insulted or offended. It should have hurt, Sirius' words, but Remus only felt resigned and somehow, vaguely, vindicated in having wanted it to be himself as well. Everyone wanted it, didn't they? It would have been better; he was right before. James and Lily's death, all that went wrong – it was his fault as much as it was Sirius' and Peter's.

"Because... it would have made it alright," Sirius said, looking at him helplessly, frustrated, as if the words would not properly form. Remus could understand the feeling, as he had experienced it himself earlier, when trying to tell Sirius his latest dark secret of regret. Even so, it did not make sense to him.

"I don't understand," Remus said, his voice calm despite the twist in his stomach at Sirius' words. He was resigned, it didn't hurt, but... But it did, somehow, deep inside, in the place he still felt emotion beneath all the weariness and apathy that he had been suffocating himself with for years. Deep down, where he still felt human, entirely human, and not half a ghost or the twisted part of a creature.

"Because..." Sirius said, lifting his hands to wave them helplessly, looking for words. "Because, if it had been you, then... all those times you tried to talk James or me out of something, it would have been because you were a berk, and wrong. Because... it wouldn't have been _me _at fault that time with Snape, I wouldn't have hurt you so much, I wouldn't have betrayed all that trust and faith you put in me and the others just because I was bored, just because I was vindictive – Because, when James and Lily died, it wouldn't have been because I was still too stupid to know who was my friend, to know that you were as faithful to us as always, because I wouldn't have betrayed your trust _again _and gotten them killed – I wouldn't have let Peter go, wouldn't have ruined everything...

"Because, if you'd truly been the betrayer, then... Then I hadn't condemned you for twelve years like I did to myself. I hadn't destroyed everything, the Marauders, all our friendships, all those years we'd spent together as the Marauders in Hogwarts – I wouldn't have destroyed it all, just because I couldn't believe in something sincere and upfront. I wouldn't have been the one who got everyone killed, just because I was still paranoid about things that had been my own fault. The fact that you used to hide being a werewolf to us... or that I had used you to get to Snape... or that I distrusted you only because I couldn't trust myself anymore to know what was happening.

"And Peter... Peter was safe, because he was too pathetic. You... you were too clever, too kind, too good at being unruffled even when everything was falling to hell around you. The wearier you were every time I saw you, the more drained and sick and greyer your hair – I wanted to believe it was because you were betraying us, and not because I was betraying _you _with my distrust. Not because you were working so hard on your own, because, despite what I've said, I still abandoned you outside Hogwarts, and there you were, alone, trying to live a life amongst friends who weren't around as often, and... And it would've been alright, all of it, if you were betraying us. It would've been alright, because I would've been right, and you would've been wrong, and ... And I wouldn't have let my closer friendship with James blind me to the friendships I had with everyone else."

Sirius fell silent, abruptly, staring at his hands miserably, tense and still and it struck Remus, suddenly, that through this all he had remained kneeling in front of him – like he was lower than Remus, like he didn't deserve to be on an equal setting with him, like he needed to be looking up at Remus, for once, instead of down.

The silence stretched, but this time it was Remus who reached out and placed gentle hands on Sirius' shoulders, who looked at him sincerely when Sirius looked up warily. "Like I said," Remus said softly, trying to instill confidence and firmness into a voice gone soft with too much information and too many regrets spoken too quickly, "if we keep trying to pass the blame around, we will get nowhere. This is something that will become circular, and..."

"You're being logical again, Moony," Sirius said with the faintest tinge of teasing, but it was with desperation that he spoke his old nickname, and when he looked at Remus, he was looking for permission, making certain he could still use the name after all that he had said.

"I –Yes, I suppose I am," Remus said, startled, and stared at Sirius in surprise. It was unfathomable that Sirius, _Sirius Black_ of all people, who had been so headstrong and arrogant and confident when he was younger, who was withdrawn and moody and depressed after he'd returned from hell, was now looking at him with a vulnerable sort of desperation, needing forgiveness and an assurance that everything was alright after all.

"It's – it's alright," Remus stuttered, watching Sirius watch him. "I don't mind. I'm not angry... For all those years, I didn't know what to think and that's why I wasn't your friend. I never even attempted to learn your side of the story, never once sent you a letter, though I'm sure they would not have allowed one to pass to you anyway and even if it had, I doubt you would have been able to write the truth and get it out to me without them intercepting and destroying it. But I knew you had no trial – the Daily Prophet said so, after all, as had Dumbledore – and I still didn't try to understand. It's alright if you hated me, Sirius, or if you wanted it to be me. I can't say I blame you... I think I felt the same, somewhere inside, about you, about me. About everything."

Sirius was quiet, but the tension released from his shoulders. He tapped his fingers absently against Remus' knees, looked away again and watched the fire. "...In the... full moon lodgings, though. Your.... You hurt yourself, didn't you?"

Remus watched him a moment, then sighed. "Is this really all that important, Sirius?" He felt weary and drained by all the emotions that had been fluctuating since Harry had arrived in the fire so suddenly.

"Yes," Sirius said firmly, a little defiantly, though he did not look up.

Remus sighed again, heavier this time, and relaxed back against the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes. "Yes, I suppose I did. It's not important, Sirius, honestly." He felt exasperated that this was even being brought up. What did it matter that he had harmed himself? It was to be expected, wasn't it? Who cared? Certainly Remus did not, and as it was his illness and his body, he rather felt his opinion was the only one that mattered.

"Your arms," Sirius said suddenly enough that Remus opened his eyes to peer at him curiously. Sirius looked at him, defiant, determined. "Let me see them."

Frowning slightly but not wanting to get into another row, Remus merely rolled his long, tattered sleeves up and displayed his arms for Sirius' perusal. Sirius grabbed one hand first, pulling forward until Remus had to lean over, his breath stirring a few long dark hairs on Sirius' head as he bent over his arm. Gentle, calloused fingers trailed up and down Remus' forearm, tracing scars and vicious bite marks that had never fully healed, a map of the years Remus had spent in agony and isolation, too weak to properly tend to his wounds afterwards, too weary or wary to brave St. Mungo's for treatment.

Sirius turned his arm over and saw, on his inner arm, a long, jagged scar that ran parallel to his veins. Sirius' hands tightened, but Remus spoke before he could jump to any conclusions.

"Coincidence," he said mildly, for the first time feeling vaguely fascinated by the scar that looked for all the world as if he had attempted suicide just a few centimeters off-center of his vein. Sirius said nothing but there was an unspoken question in the air that Remus could not ignore. "It's just a scratch from when I was in the middle of Changing, and my claws hadn't yet disappeared. I think my skin just felt wrong, so I was scratching at it."

"A scratch," Sirius said flatly, faintly, and trailed his fingers along the scar that clearly had been quite a deep wound.

Remus shivered slightly, completely unaccustomed to such gentle touch, and tried to pull away. "I'm fine, you know," he said firmly, a little irritated that Sirius seemed to be presuming that he could not handle anything on his own. "That was an accident and it doesn't matter anyway."

"Of _course _it matters, you prat," Sirius said, though there was less venom in his voice than exasperation. "You think it's _okay _you did this to yourself?"

"If you think I did it on purpose for pity –" Remus started heatedly, hackles rising.

He could not remember ever being so easily angered – it was something about tonight, something about Harry's sudden appearance and forcing them to relive better times, when everything was fun and games and the worst that was happening was Snape's humiliation in front of the school – it was the fact that, for the first time in years, Remus and Sirius had been smiling at each other completely comfortably, like friends who had never had a cold wall built between them – it was Sirius with his damn gentle hands and his insistence on fucking _caring _all of a sudden what happened to Remus when for years he'd thought Remus had betrayed everyone –

"I'm not accusing you of that, Remus, for Merlin's sake, settle _down!" _ Sirius scowled at him, tightening his hands again. "Would you stop interpreting everything I say in the worst way possible?"

"Well — " Remus said, at a loss for a moment how to respond. "Well – stop saying such confusing things then."

"I'm _not _saying anything confusing, you bloody idiot!" Sirius tugged on Remus' arm forcefully, as if to remind him he was holding it. "I'm saying I'm _sorry, _alright? I'm sorry you were hurt all those times, I'm sorry I mucked everything up so much! I don't think you're some evil Dark Creature — "

"Well, I _am," _Remus pointed out.

"You're a werewolf, Moony," Sirius said, giving him a look of disdain, "not evil, or a Dark Creature — "

"A werewolf _is _a Dark Creature — "

"A werewolf is just someone who's been bitten by another werewolf, you prat! It doesn't make you evil or good, it just makes you different — "

"Oh, and _Avada Kedavra _doesn't kill people, _people _kill people, is that it?"

"Bloody hell, Moony, what's _with _you tonight?" Sirius demanded, leaning back and letting go of Remus' arm. "You're jumping down my throat at everything I say!"

"Because I can't _believe you!" _Remus snapped, standing up to stare down at him wildly. "How can I bloody believe all this care you're suddenly throwing at me, when you thought so little of me for so long? You say I wasn't so bad in Hogwarts? I _was! _ I let you all get away with too much – let you torment and torture poor Severus so much that now he can't even look at Harry without loathing rising as an echo of James – you all became Animagus for me, and I'm grateful, I truly am, but even you said yourself you'd abandoned me in the end. And it's _fine, _Sirius, for fuck's sake, it's _fine! _ Just stop – stop trying to comfort me, alright? Stop saying it's fine, that everything will be better, stop trying to offer some friendship again like it used to be! I've changed, you've changed, we're not the same anymore. I can't – I can't keep opening myself up only to — "

He stopped himself, but Sirius knew what he was going to say.

"To be betrayed again?" Sirius said quietly, staring up at him with an unreadable expression. "That's what you meant to say, isn't it?"

Remus looked away, eyes drawn to the fire, anger already spent as weariness set into his muscles again. He sighed, squeezed the bridge of his nose, tried to ignore the headache that was coming back with a vengeance. "...Maybe it's best we go to sleep," he said instead of answering.

Sirius frowned – Remus could feel it even with his eyes closed – and said churlishly, "I'm not letting this end like this."

"Well, you never _did _know when to stop, did you?" Remus said a little vindictively, his voice cold and out to harm.

Sirius stood, finally, his expression mutinous as he looked at Remus from a foot and a half away. "You," he said firmly, angrily, "are a complete, bloody _prat." _

"Thank you," Remus said coldly, crossing his arms. "I appreciate that."

"You're pushing me away like you pushed us all away before we became Animagi!"

"Yes, well, perhaps I should have tried harder the first time."

The cold words hung in the air, raising the tension, building that damn wall up again that Remus had been so happy to see come down. But, as much as he wanted to feel happy again, as much as he had appreciated being able to smile sincerely at Sirius – part of him was still too terrified to let it happen.

He had been betrayed twice by Sirius. Both times had taken so much from him... The first, Sirius had carelessly thrown around his deepest, darkest, most hurtful secret to Sirius' enemy just on a bit of vindictive boredom, and had almost caused Remus to destroy Snape's life by turning him into a werewolf, had almost gotten Remus expelled from the only place he had ever found real friends. The second, Sirius had distrusted him with little to no evidence, had caused a rift between the two of them that had spread and festered over the years and grown exponentially after James, Lily, and Peter had all died, or had apparently been murdered.

And now, here was Sirius, the only one left, the one who had hurt Remus more often than anyone else, asking for forgiveness and a third chance. Asking for trust and faith, even when every time Remus had tried to give him that before, it had been wrenched from him cruelly and turned around, torturing him with the very same faith and trust that he had given out in the first place. His greatest regrets were becoming connected to his greatest leaps of faith, and it was too much.

How could Sirius honestly expect him to be able to give out that much of himself ever again?

How could Sirius hope to be trusted enough for Remus to open up?

It was not that Remus distrusted Sirius, or even that he did not trust him at all, but it was difficult, and there were so many nights he had lain awake, trying to understand where it all had gone wrong, trying to imagine what he could have done differently and what he should do in the future to avoid anything like that happening again.

Yes, Remus _wanted _to be friends again. He wanted that inclusion and trust and care that he'd had in Hogwarts again; he wanted it desperately, like a man dying of thirst in the desert, willing to cling to every mirage as the only goal that could possibly keep him going, the only thing keeping him from death.

At the same time, Remus knew better. He knew there was no reason to hope when he would probably just be hurt again. He was no stranger to pain or betrayal, to fear or regret or loneliness, but that did not mean he felt the need to invite it in. Closer than before, because now his heart had already been shattered a few times, and it would be like weeds growing in concrete, ripping apart the stone from beneath and causing more rifts until it all just cracked and crumbled and lost any sense of shape or coherence at all.

He could not let Sirius plant any more weeds within him, even if he wanted it.

Even if he wanted to be broken and remolded as much as he wanted to pretend he had never cracked in the first place.

"I'm going to bed," Remus said finally, after his cold words had hung in the air long enough to seep poison into Sirius' veins.

Sirius stared at him, at a loss for words until Remus reached the door and put his hand on the knob. Only then did Sirius speak. "You don't mean that," he said, and though his voice was confident, there was still an uncertain waver. "You don't mean – that you never wanted us to get close — "

Remus paused, let Sirius fall silent again, and did not look back. "I don't know what I mean anymore, Sirius," he said truthfully, and left before Sirius could speak again.

The walk up the stairs was tiring and weary, and Remus almost wished the portrait of Sirius' mother would awake and start screaming obscenities at him like before just so he had an excuse to hex something, or take out his anger, or even just feel terrible and sorry for himself and want to drift into the same lethargic depression that Sirius had been moodily displaying since before and after Christmas.

But she did not awake, and Sirius did not call out to him again, and when Remus arrived in his room and fell onto the bed, he knew that he would be dreaming in vivid nightmares, worlds of regret and loneliness and terror, tinged red like blood and overshadowed, stiflingly, by the darkness of the house around him and the darkness of the beast inside.

Sometimes, Remus reflected as he drifted to sleep, thinking about all that he had said and left unsaid to Sirius, even back in his days in Hogwarts and all he had and had not done then --

Sometimes, Remus thought that the greatest beast within him was not the wolf but himself.

Just Remus John Lupin, cruel and hurtful despite what anyone said.


End file.
